You Have Me
by dilly2
Summary: Part 2 now up! The crew finds an alien ship in distress and helps them out, but they aren't who they seem to be. Implied T/R slash. PG for violence.
1. Prologue

**You Have Me**

_by dilly_  
  
  
Lt. Malcolm Reed stared intensely at the view screen. The point of light glided towards its target, and missed. He slammed his fist into the control panel.  
"Dammit! Twenty four hours and I could have this fixed."  
"Burning the midnight oil, Malcolm?"  
His head snapped towards the chief engineer's voice. He signed and turned back toward the view screen.  
"Is there something you want?"  
Trip sauntered next to him and nodded toward the panel, "If you break that thing, I'm sure as hell not fixin' it. And I'm not sending some ensign here to do it for you either."  
"Point taken."  
He leaned against a metal rod nearby. "Weapons still off mark?"   
"Yes," Malcolm hissed irritably.  
"Woah," Trip put his hands up in mock surrender, "Calm down. I know you're doin' your best. Maybe you should call it a night."  
"If we run into anyone dangerous we'll be entirely helpless," he sighed, "We won't even be able to put up a decent fight."  
Trip patted Malcolm roughly, but reassuringly, on the back. "You don't gotta expect the worse all the time. You could use a little optimism." His voice danced cheerfully up and down his words, the exact opposite of Malcolm's.  
"It's my *job* to expect the worse."  
Trip chuckled and shoved Malcolm playfully. "Someone's gettin' cranky!"  
Malcolm let a small smile crack his countenance despite himself. "It is getting a bit late.  
Perhaps I *should* get a few hours in."  
"Damn right," said Trip, obviously self satisfied, "I'm headed to my quarters too. Your room's just on the way, ain't it?"  
"Well, I have a few more tests to run before--"  
"Malcolm, if you run a few more tests I'm gonna have a busted panel in here and I'm pretty sure the Cap'n wouldn't appreciate that," He grabbed Malcolm's arm and pulled him toward the exit.  
"You're rather pushy, aren't you Mr. Tucker?"  
"That's my daddy. *I'm* Trip. And yes," he yanked at Malcolm's arm again, "I'm pushy."  
Malcolm sighed and tried desperately to stop the smile that was threatening to overtake his face. He could have easily broken Trip's grasp, but only gave a bit of a half-hearted struggle.  
"Okay, you have me."  
Trips ever-present grin widened. He leaned towards Malcolm.  
"Do I, Lieutenant?"  
There was something in his voice. Something that made Malcolm uncomfortable and strangely elated at the same time. Trip let the moment last for only a second before dropping Malcolm's arm and turning towards the ladder. Malcolm watched the chief engineer climb up, then followed after him, the odd feeling still tugging at the edge of his mind.

To be continued...


	2. Taken

Malcolm Reed sighed. Hoshi was happily chatting with one of the Markalians and recording their language. T'Pol was taking readings of the planet. Tucker was getting the small Markalian ship's thrusters back online. Nothing for a tactical officer to do. It had taken a lot of convincing for Archer to take him on the away team. He had almost wished that something had gone wrong, so that the captain would see that his cautious attitude was warranted.  
Archer grinned as he approached Malcolm. "I told you there was nothing to worry about."  
Reed sighed again, "Yes, you did, sir. But not every alien life form we come across will be this friendly."  
"And not every alien life form we come across will be hostile," he said with a grin. "Trip tells me that their defense system is having some problems. He's got his hands full, so why don't you go help him with it?"  
Malcolm looked around at the several spike-faced Markalians eyeing him and his weapon. "That sounds like a good idea."  
Archer chuckled and patted him on the back. "They think we look pretty strange too."  
Malcolm walked to the Markalian ship cautiously, keeping his peripheral vision on the surrounding aliens. He saw no reason to let his guard down just yet. He walked through the open hatch into the small corridor. It was even more cramped on the inside than it looked to be from the outside. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for Trip. Since they had spoken in the armory a while back, the engineer gave Malcolm an increasingly strange feeling. One that he couldn't quite put his finger on. One that made him queasy when he thought of it.  
Trip looked up from his gleeful fiddling with a console and beckoned Malcolm towards him emphatically.  
"Malcolm, you gotta see these things!" The lieutenant leaned over Trip's shoulder and looked at the console. "Do you see them? Those little moving things. They're some kind of insect that eats energy deposits that build up when the ship's running."  
Malcolm straightened and backed away. "Are you sure it's safe to be that close to those things?"  
"Oh, the Markalian's say they're harmless."  
"Maybe to Markalians. Those things aren't in the defence systems are they?"  
"I didn't see any. But the thing looks like it's busted up pretty bad. It might take a little whi--"  
The ship shook, interruption Trip and knocking both of them to the floor. The Markalians rushed in. The hatch closed. The ship shook again.  
"What the hell's goin' on here?" Trip demanded as he scrambled to his feet.  
One of the Markalians rushed to the console Trip had been working on. Another put a phase pistol to his head. "You are not in capacity for questions, human." The alien turned towards Malcolm and pushed the pistol against Trip's head. "Weapon laid down or dead comrade."  
Malcolm gripped his weapon tighter, unwilling to give in so easily. The Markalian pointed the pistol at Trip's shoulder and pulled the trigger. He cried out in pain. "Now! The next will not be pleasant."  
"You think _that_ was pleasant?!" Trip protested.  
There was no way out of it. Malcolm grudgingly did as he was told. The ship lurched again, then began to hum quietly. The Markalian at the console nodded towards one of the others.  
The ship's innards melted away, turning it into a cubicle cell with plain, gray walls.  
"Like in the Xyrillian ship," Tucker muttered.  
"Quiet!" The gun-toting Markalian slammed the butt of the pistol into the engineer's wounded shoulder. Trip groaned and gripped at his injury.  
"Where are you taking us?" Malcolm demanded.  
"Our ship," one of the other aliens hissed. "Don't mind Catin. He is a cruel man. I am Faltar."  
"Learned our language pretty quick there, Faltar," said Tucker, edging away from Catin.  
Faltar made a sound similar to a chuckle, "It is our translator that allows us to speak to you in your language."  
"What do you want with us?" asked Malcolm.  
"Only your minds," he answered with a grin. "Now, sit against the wall until we reach the ship. It would be better on all of us if you didn't make a fuss."  
Trip took Malcolm's arm and led him to a sitting possition. The lieutenant gave him a look, but Trip shook it away and turned eyes toward the opposite wall.  
The "ship" came to a stop, then jolted again as it landed on solid ground. A Markalian put his hand against the wall and a panel slid away. Faltar nodded to them and then to Catin. The violent alien skulked away with the other Markalians.  
"You are the ranking officer?" Faltar asked, nodding towards Trip.  
"That's me."  
"Contact your ship. Tell them that our weapons are far superior to theirs and if they attack, they will be destroyed and both of you killed."  
"Do you have proof of that?" asked Malcolm.  
"Look around you, human. What do you think?"  
Trip took a deep breath and opened his communicator despite the silent protest on Malcolm's face.  
"Tucker to Archer."  
"Trip? What the hell's going on!"  
He glanced up at Faltar. "We've been taken captive by the Markalians. They say they've got some pretty big guns pointed at you. If you try to do anything they'll blow you up and shoot me and Malcolm.  
Faltar snatched the communicator from Trip and closed it. "Give me yours." Malcolm looked at Trip, who shrugged, then gave his communicator up. "The others will be in shortly to begin the procedure."  
With that, he left.  
Malcolm was immediately at his feet and trying his hand at opening the door. Trip let him struggle with it for a few minutes before speaking. "I got a feeling there ain't no use in bothering with that."  
Malcolm huffed and let his hands drop to his sides. "What then? Just sit here? Wait for them to come in and take what they want from us? I don't know about you, but going through a procedure that will take our minds doesn't sound like something I want to sit around and wait to have done to me."  
"I don't _know_ Malcolm." He cringed and held his left shoulder.  
"I'm sorry, sir." He went to his superior and knelt by his side. "Are you all right?"  
"Not particularly." Trip unbuttoned his jacket and gingerly pealed away the fabric burnt into his skin.  
"Here, let me help you. You're bleeding a bit." Malcolm took helped him remove his undershirt, then ripped a thick strip of it and tied it tightly around the wound. "That should stop the bleeding soon, but I'd like to get you to a proper doctor."  
"Well, I don't think you'll be getting your wish any time soon." Trip sighed. "I don't like sitting here on my butt any more than you do. But we don't have much of a choice. We'll just have to wait for the Markalians to come back so we can figure out what they want out of us or for Enterprise to help us out."  
Malcolm looked around the room uneasily. "I'm quite certain I'd prefer the first."  


***

"What are you saying? I should leave them in that ship to die?" Jonathan Archer griped the arm of his chair tightly.  
T'Pol put her hands behind her back and stood at her station coolly. "We do not have a choice. Their technology is far superior to ours. With help from a Vulcan vessel--"  
He stood abruptly and approached her. "And while we go for help, the Markalians do whatever they want to my crewmen. "It will not take long for a Vulcan ship to arrive."  
"How long would it take for the closest ship to get here, Hoshi?"  
She shook her head. "We're pretty far out here. A day at least."  
"A day." Jonathan pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. "I'm not leaving my men over there for a day. There _is_ a way for us to get them back. We've just got to find it."  
"Their ships is surrounded by a force field," T'Pol reminded him, "Our weapons would have little effect. A direct hit from them would cause serious damage and possibly destroy Enterprise. Do you want to risk the lives of the rest of your crew?"  
"I won't risk the lives of any of my crew if I can help it, and _that_ includes Trip and Malcolm. Select a team to work on this problem. I want a solution in an hour... at _most_."  
T'pol paused. She could tell that there was no point in furthering her efforts to persuade him. "Yes sir."  
Archer turned toward the view screen. The huge ship hung among the stars, unmoving.  
They don't even see us as a threat, he thought. He only hoped he could prove them wrong. 

***

Hours had passed. Malcolm felt he would go insane. The commander hurt. Enterprise possibly in danger. Both he and Trip positively in danger.  
"For the love of God, Malcolm will you stop walking back and fourth like that?"  
He stopped short and turned to Trip and gave him a strange look. He hadn't even realized he'd been pacing.  
Trip chuckled. Just come over here and sit down. It must be late. I feel like I've been up for a year."  
Malcolm sat near Trip carefully. "You should probably try to get some rest. It'll help you heal."  
He nodded. "Too bad they didn't give us a bed huh?" Trip struggled to make himself comfortable in a sitting position against the hard wall. After several failures, he looked over at Malcolm questioningly. "I really don't mean this the wrong way or anything, but d'ya think I could maybe use you as a... pillow? I wouldn't ask but, my shoulder, you know?"  
"S-sure. No problem. Fine." Trip smiled slightly and laid down next to Malcolm nestling his head on his lap. Malcolm's heart was fluttering madly.  
"Will you be all right? Can you sleep sitting up?"  
"I'll stay awake. I don't sleep very much anyway."  
"Suit yourself," Trip mumbled sleepily. It wasn't long before he was snoring quietly.  
Malcolm tried to fix his eyes on the wall across from him. Then, the floor beside him. But they made there way to the sleeping chief engineer in his lap. His hair was awry, falling down onto his forehead. His lips were slightly parted. His blond eyelashes laid a soft shadow on his cheeks. He looked so innocent, almost boyish. Malcolm smiled and brushed back Trip's hair from his face. His hand lingered on Trip's head for a moment before he pulled it away.  
"What are you doing, Malcolm?" he muttered to himself. In spite of himself, he ran a knuckle across Trip's cheek. The slight stubble already growing tickled.  
"This is quite a scene."  
Malcolm jerked his head up too see Faltar, who was standing above him. Trip's eyes fluttered open.  
"Humans are quite interesting. I'll have to study you some time. But for now, there are more pressing matters. Catin, Tark, take this one, the other is damaged," Faltar said, pointing at Malcolm. Catin and another huge Markalian   
Trip struggled into a sitting position. "Wait, I'm the superior officer, you--" Catin interrupted him with a kick to the rips then grabbed Malcolm and jabbed a needle into his arm. Malcolm managed to struggle for a few minutes, but was soon too drugged to move more than a twitch. The two large Markalians dragged him out.  
Faltar smiled at Trip. "I'll return your crewmate to you soon. I'll be interested to see how humans react to this process."  
"What process?" he managed to cough out.  
"Oh, I don't want to spoil it for you. You'll see for yourself soon enough. Now, if you'll excuse me..." He bowed slightly and left Trip huddled on the floor.  



End file.
